


If You Only Knew

by dearlordwhathaveieverdone



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha Moriarty, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, stalker moriarty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearlordwhathaveieverdone/pseuds/dearlordwhathaveieverdone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock life was being unraveled and his life turned upside down as his biggest secret was unveiled. </p><p>John had trouble believing that Sherlock would hide something like that for him. It made him have mixed feelings about the whole thing. Of course, if didn't bother him that Sherlock and him could... finally... Well, that part wasn't important. </p><p>It really had only started with one little rumor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Wickedly Nasty Idea

Sally had always wanted to be a detective, always had liked to solve mysteries and as an alpha it could easily been done, rather quickly in fact. So when the first case she had ever done with Lestrade, a tall man came walking in and solve her puzzle she had even gotten a chance to even try. She had not been very happy. That was not the reason that Sherlock Holmes bothered Sally so much. That was probably because of the fact that he liked it, enjoyed it even, relished in the fact that he had out smarted someone again. He didn't even care that innocent people, omega and alpha alike, had died.

Sally’s father had been killed by a psychopath, and since then she had studied them. Even then it had never occurred to her that when Sherlock Holmes had first walked onto a crime scene he was a monster just like the people they worked against. Of course he had denied it, always saying that he was a sociopath. But everyone has their snapping point, even people who never feel any emotion. But Sherlock Holmes must have been raised to tell a person’s snapping point.

The Freak had actually been working as a ‘Consulting Detective’ for longer than Sally had been trying to get in the police force. It was only a few weeks more than her, but apparently that was enough for everyone to have a sour opinion of him. Because when she got there more than one person explained to her why the strange man was allowed in on a case. Not one thing nice had been said about him, and when Sally had met him she sure knew why. Their first conversation that they had ever had went pretty much like this,

_‘So… You’re a detective?’_

_‘A consulting detective.’_

_‘You’re a… consulting detective?’_

_‘Isn’t that what I just said?’_

_‘Yeah…’_

_‘Then why do you feel the need to repeat me?’_

_‘It was just a question.’_

_‘That I had just told you the answer too.’_

_‘So? I haven’t ever heard of a ‘consulting detective’ before. Are you trained for it or somethin’?_

_‘No.’_

_‘So what do you actually do? Why ask you to come?’_

_‘Because when the police are out of there league, which is always, they consult me. I tell them what should have been obvious.’_

_‘Like what? What would you know that I couldn't?’_

_‘You’re an alpha who has never actually been with an omega, yet you keep up the appearance that you have had many. Probably because you’re mother left your father or more likely, because she was distant and didn't want to have children in the first place. Some omegas actually don’t. You originally wanted to be a policeman because you wanted to help people; you became one because someone killed a parent. Probably father, but mother is always the possibility. It only took a short amount of time because your gender, probably only a few months, year tops. That’s why you moved to London because of this job; I can tell that you only moved a few weeks ago from the small scraps on your hands, a razor blade that is primarily only used in moving. So you ask yourself again, why use an amateur?’_

_‘How do you know that?’_

_‘I don’t_ know _, I_ notice _.’_

Sally had then noticed how Sherlock acted around other people; he seemed to look down upon every single one of them, as though they were dirt underneath his shoe. People definitely didn't like him very much, and barely tolerated him. It was rather strange that he acted that way, so loud and aggressive, so obviously an alpha that it was off-putting.

Eventually she discussed all of her theories with Anderson, who agreed and pointed out that Alpha’s mostly had that need to overpower and make everyone submissive; Sherlock did that to everyone on a regular basis. He seemed to only listen to John. It was strange, because John, even with his short stature and kind face was actually an alpha too. But they didn't seem to clash like Sally and Sherlock, or Sherlock and Anderson, or Sherlock and any person in the London area.

“It doesn't make any sense does it? I’m an alpha and I get along way better with people.” Sally mused once with Anderson; though a beta himself Anderson still had learned enough about them from Sally to get a good idea that Sherlock Holmes was not a usual alpha. Well, he wasn't usual at anything, but the genetics of an alpha really shouldn't be that obvious.

Jokingly Anderson had once added, “What if he wasn't an alpha at all? He’s just a really aggressive beta? God, I just had the idea of him being an omega! Him waddling around with a pregnant belly!” Anderson chuckled a bit before giving his farewell and going home for the day.

But the idea stuck to Sally. It began pestering at her for more attention. Sally learned one thing about being a cop it’s that if your feel it in your gut that something’s off, it usually is. It didn't make sense though, Sherlock being anything else then an alpha, he fit all the applications. Loud, rambunctious, aggressive to other alphas, but then again he pretty much fit for any gender. He had never denied that he was anything else then an alpha, never confirmed it either.

He could always be a beta. It made sense in a twisted sort of way. He had never been in a relationship, as far as Sally knew, and betas didn't really need too. He was always collected. But he could just be annoyed with alphas and acted as such. It fit, as Sally already said, in a twisted way. If he was a beta it would change the way the force tolerated him and more people would stand up to him.

‘You’re not looking at all the possibilities.’ A voice in her head reprimanded her. Sally was annoyed that it sounded like the freak.

It had never occurred to her the last option. The freak is the least submissive person that Sally had ever met. Of course most omegas’ genetics have thinned out the submissiveness. But they usually are better behaved, and he never obeys orders, never takes no for an answer and Sally had never caught whiff of any heat on him, ever. That’s not to say that he could be masking their pheromones with an alpha’s or even suppressing there heats all together. But why would someone do that? Omegas are not treated as badly as they were a hundred years. Several laws had been passed in order to protect omega’s rights. But if Sherlock was an omega it would shift how the whole police force thought of him. They biologically felt the need to protect and care for omegas. In turn omegas felt the need to protect and care for children. They probably wouldn't want him at crime scenes anymore.

They would probably not want him anywhere near any sort of danger. With the Freak’s ‘fan club’ now, a lot of people would protest that Sherlock wouldn't be a good fit for police work any longer. Even a rumor would probably put Sherlock out of police force forever. Might actually loss him his fan base, people don’t usually like to take orders from an omega. Not even advice to this very day. If this got out, Sally could only imagine the panic on that freaks face.

That’s when a wickedly, nasty idea crept up inside of Sally.


	2. Perverted Mental Overload

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know.” John lastly stated before giving his leave and once again walked through the department. Like last time people stared, probably more than last time if he was right to believe. But John didn't pay them no mind. (Even if he did give a death glare to Anderson on the way out)

People were staring at him. 

Not just a side way glance but a full on stare. But now as John walked through the police department every eye seemed to be turned on him. Most looked away from John when caught their eye, but a few brave souls stood their ground and continued to blatantly stare at him. This was actually really weird because most of them didn’t really pay attention to John when Sherlock wasn’t there for a case or needed Lestrade for something or another.

So that was why John was currently doing a weird half jog through the department to Lestrade’s office to give him the package that contained most of the evidence that Sherlock found. (He totally stole it.) It had been a small case of a child-parent kidnapping. Very simple as Sherlock put it, as apparently the Gardner was having an affair with the wife and when the husband found out he took his rage out on his wife. Eventually a knife was involved and he almost killed his wife. Afraid the husband took his child and ran to a southern part of America. All John needed to do was give Lestrade the shovel that was thrown into a ditch a few blocks away.

Knocking politely on the Detective Inspector’s door, John went in with a grunt of ‘come in’. Lestrade looked up from the paperwork he was doing and eyes widened when he saw just _who_ he had let into his door. That was about the time when John had had enough. “Is something on my face?” He demanded.

That must have snapped Greg out of whatever the hell was wrong with him because he blanched and then admitted, “No. It’s just that some of the… uh… well, that’s not important.”

John narrowed his eyes at Greg’s answer, but let it go. For now.

“So, who did it?” It changed the subject and lead to John having to describe Sherlock boisterous explanation of the entire thing and how he had dug through the garbage to find the wife’s receipt for a nail appointment. Greg then told a story of how Sherlock had once went through the crime scene trashcan because the ticket stub for the victim’s movie would be there.  John contoured with his own story and eventually the two had started laughing and laughing.

“And then- then he- he pointed at the new guy and said that he had done it! The poor man had wet himself!” breathed Greg. They both now chuckling once in a while, having fully ran out of stories of the tall detective.

John and Greg smiled at each other once more, “Well, I should be going. Don’t want him blowing the microwave up again!”

Getting up to leave Lestrade quickly added, “John, I was wondering.”

“Yeah, Greg?”

 “There have been some people talking about Sherlock.”

Taken aback John added, “When isn’t there?”

Lestrade gave him a nod before awkwardly confessed, “It’s about… his uh, sexual orientation.”

“Excuse me?” John exclaimed.

Lestrade at least gave him a withering look at his outburst. “Yeah, well, some people have been saying that he’s…”

“Spit it out, Lestrade.”

“That he’s an omega.”

Awkward silence fell over them.

“They think he’s a what?”

“An omega, John.”

Then John had a thought.

Sherlock.

As an omega.

In heat.

Dripping from his…

While he begs for John to…

Or Sherlock’s red lips wrapped around his…

Him screaming as John shoved his kn-

“John?” Lestrade intrusive voice broke the thought. John had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat and then adjusted the tightness around his groin. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” John lied, trying to will away the mental picture and his sudden hard on.

“It’s a weird thought, isn’t it?” Lestrade smiled completely oblivious to John’s inner (and outer) struggle to control himself. “Sherlock’s sexuality just doesn’t cross my mind, ya know? He’s like this, this, _thing,_ which everyone’s curious about but no one really wants to know.” John nodded in agreement. “I’ve known him for years and he’s never so much mentioned ever getting a date.”

John suddenly had the image of Sherlock and his first meal, John awkwardly asking the younger man if he was an omega and they should take precautions. Now thinking on it John realized that Sherlock had never gave him a straight forward answer. He had just agreed with John that everything was okay.

Lestrade voice cut in, “He isn’t, you know…”

“Not in my knowledge.” John said. “I actually asked him that very thing, once.” Greg perked up in his chair, “He hadn’t actually said straight out that he was any gender.”

Lestrade suddenly deflated, “I would have thought that he would have told you.”

“Yeah,” John anxiously put his weight on different feet. “I’ll ask him.”

“Would you?” Lestrade hurriedly asked, then continued, “It’s not that I’m interested. But there have been some nasty rumors. And most people would want him off any case.”

Of course. Omega’s, despite being allowed to do just about everything that an alpha or a beta could do still had difficulty getting a job on any police or army regimen. And adding being an omega to Sherlock’s less than pleasing characteristics, he would be booted off of doing the one thing that he truly loved.

“Right, well luckily that won’t happen.” John hinted. “Because, even if he is, and he’s definitely not, it is illegal to remove an omega after they’ve already got the job.”

“John, you know that I won’t let that happen.”

“I know.” John lastly stated before giving his leave and once again walked through the department. Like last time people stared, probably more than last time if he was right to believe. But John didn’t pay them no mind. (Even if he did give a death glare to Anderson on the way out)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is gladly welcomed!


	3. August 29, 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the actual deducing fuck is guy playing at?

Sherlock knew that picking at a scab was not exceptionable behavior. Of course he knew that, Mycroft had reprimanded him several times during his childhood. But as Sherlock finally got the clotted blood to rip off his skin Sherlock couldn't help but feel proud at his meager accomplishment. A small blood drop appeared on his left hand and Sherlock immediately sucked the blood off.

Hand still in his mouth Sherlock propped the book open on his knees. Which were pushing against the table absentmindedly. It was uncomfortable, but Sherlock figured that the other option was to return back to the atrocious apartment that Mycroft set up until he can find a suitable dorm for his little brother. Why bother? Who knows. Sherlock and Mycroft both know that no matter who it is they'll want to move out in the first few minutes of meeting him.

A snort to his left made Sherlock glance over, a couple of alphas were failing at keeping their laughter in.

_alpha, artificially blonde, right handed, mother ill, _l ~~arge short~~_ ~~haired dog~~ , bloodhound, omega was in heat approximately two weeks ago, majoring in economics _

and

_alpha, right handed, cellist?, string-instrument, studying philosophy, dating a ginger haired beta, recently was on holiday_

The artificial blonde glanced in his direction and snorted again. Narrowing his eyes at the alpha Sherlock turns back to his book. Stubbornly Sherlock does not do the socially exceptionable thing to do and just move to a different location. But Sherlock being the stubborn asshole he is, reads on. Trying not to snap at the annoying obnoxious school-girl's behind him. Didn't they know that this was a library?

Soon the noise stops and Sherlock can finally get absorbed into his book. Lunar physics are much more interesting then a couple of childish alphas.

Suddenly a tap on the shoulder knocked Sherlock right out of his reading. Snapping his head to the culprit Sherlock narrows his eyes at the blonde alpha smiling down at him. "What do you want?" Sherlock hisses through gritted teeth. Who  **DARE**  interrupted his reading?

His snapping doesn't make the friendly smile fade, if anything it makes his smile larger. After a few beats the artificial blonde lightly says, "Well, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to study with me and my friend. We're both studying," He pauses to glance down at some of Sherlock's closed book, "Lunar physics too. So if-"

"Even a fool could figure out that you're lying." Sherlock snaps. "And even if you weren't studying economics, I still wouldn't want to." The alpha looks surprised, "And shouldn't you be taking care of your mother?" With that he turns back to his book, sufficiently ending that conversation.

But the blonde doesn't go away. A screeching makes Sherlock look up to see that the alpha had sat down in the chair in front of him, staring at Sherlock with wide eyes. "How do you know that?"

Rolling his eyes Sherlock sarcastically asks, "Know what?"

"All of that, about my mother and stuff." This alpha is really obtuse isn't he?

"I didn't know. I noticed."

"Alright, how?"

"The same way I know that you're studying economics and that your omega-friend was in heat approximately two weeks ago," That should do it. Sherlock glances up, expecting horror, but again, the alpha surprises him. He looks impressed.

"Tell me."

"You already know the first one, the book on your table is known to be essential in economics. Economics in One Lesson? Really? Very clever tittle." Sherlock was bored now. "The mother part was a bit harder. The first clue was that you have crinkles on the wrong side of your face. They wouldn't be there if you slept in your own, well-known, bed. Means you didn't sleep at home. Could be you just shagged or stayed at a friends house. But that would mean that your heart rate would be slightly higher than usual, which it isn't. Then theirs the stress lines on your face. Not unknown to the college student, but yours are more prominent. Like a worrying son."

Sherlock finished this with a deep breathe and picked his book back up.

"Oooooookaaay. That's a bit..." The alpha trailed off obviously not knowing what to say.

"Freaky? Stalkerish? Unnatural? Insane?" Sherlock intervened. Looking up at the alpha through his eyelashes. The alpha must have though that was a sign of encouragement because he seemed to have stood taller at Sherlock gaze.

"Yeah, all of the above really."

"Right then." Seeing no sign of the alpha moving Sherlock says as aloof as he can, "If you don't have anything else to say, leave."

Thus the end of a very short relationship.

Sherlock expected the alpha to slowly back away, but surprisingly he stayed. Sherlock decided that he would just ignore him until he went away. That usually did the trick. Or stare at him.

"How do you know it's my mum?" Sherlock jerked his head to look at him. The blonde just stared at him and repeated, "How do you know that it's my mum?"

Sherlock wavered. Why was he still here? Isn't his friend waiting for him? Narrowing his eyes he told the alpha, "There's saliva on the back of your left ear. Smells sick."

The alpha immediately went to rub behind said ear. "Right. That's a bit gross really."

"Yes, I suppose so." Sherlock mused.

This alpha is really getting tiresome. Time for tactic number two. Stare until annoying alpha goes away.

stare

Stare

STARE

**STARE**

_**STARE**  _ **  
**

"You have beautiful eyes."

What the actually deducing fuck is guy playing at?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of conflicted over whether I was going to post this story or not. (And BTW my laptop's hard drive died and everything got erased. :( supper sad)


	4. In Which John is a Pimp

The walk back to Baker Street felt like a long one. How was John gonna just casually ask if Sherlock liked to take it up the ass? The answer was that he was not. There was no possible way that the conversation will ever go well. The best case scenario would probably be something like this,

_'Hey, Sherlock, my main man,how you doin'?'_

_'Yo, John, my homebro, wasssaa?'_

_"Ah wuz thinkin 'bout in the hood, how you neva really did the wicky wacky with no body. And I was wonden' if this is from you liken the knot.'_

_'Nah, John, nah, ain't really my style see. I wanna get them 'megas wet and 'orny see?'_

_'I knew it man, I knew you ain't one of those! But it 'ine if you wanna be man, it ok.'_

_'You pullin' that mushy stuff on me man,'_

_'Nah, boy'_

John shook his head at that. Really, John? he thought, Does Sherlock and him talk like a ghetto pimps now?

Finally John reached the familiar door of Baker Street. Letting himself in John flung his coat onto its hanger and made his way up to Sherlock and his living space. Of course when he got there Sherlock was fiddling with something in the kitchen. Probably burning something for science again.

"I'm back," John called out, getting closer to Sherlock to see exactly what he was doing.

"Ah, yes," Sherlock mumbled glancing sideways at him. Flashing John those odd color eyes. The first time John had seen them it had taken a him a good twenty minutes before giving up on what exact color they are. "How was it?"

"It was fine," John shrugged into an empty seat around the rarely used dining table.

"What had took you so long? I needed you to bring me a whisk." Sherlock complained lifting up with prong from a pot what appeared to John to be a severed hand covered in an indistinguishable liquid. "I need to see whether or not a hand will melt in acid covered in urine."

"Yours?" John asked.

"My what? Urine?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the idea. "Of course not, John." Sherlock then dipped the hand back into the pot.

"So long as you won't be needing mine." John joked taking out his mobile phone. "So is this what you've been doing all day? Putting hands in pee?"

"Of course not," Sherlock once again took the hand out, "I've also put several toes in it too."

John chocked out a laugh, making Sherlock's eyes flick up to him. "Funny, and slightly disgusting."

"Who said I was joking?" But Sherlock smirk at him begged to differ.  _  
_

"Funny, Sherlock, you're a funny guy." John shook his head at his rather ridiculous friend. "And where did you get a hand? Oh wait lemme guess, you finally snapped and cut off Mycroft hand."

The deep rumbling of Sherlock's chest told him he thought that was pretty funny. "As satisfying as that would be, Molly Hooper lovingly donated it from a man whose wife pushed him out of a balcony."

"Ookay, that nice. Well not really." After that it lapsed into silence, Sherlock to focused as to what he was doing and John knowing that he won't get a response even if he tried. Usually in these moments John goes and does his own thing, usually just watch some telly or maybe go get some drinks with Mike. Sometimes he would even go on a date or two. Of course usually not all the same night.

But when Sherlock stopped talking and John was left to his thoughts it made him rethink what Lestrade had said. Was Sherlock an omega?  _Could_ he be? Sherlock was a pretty person obviously so. But there were moments when John looked, no  _saw_ , him and it made him breathless. Like in the middle of a case and Sherlock was finally piecing the story together and his odd color eyes would light up and it was that sort of thing that made John breathless. Those moments scared and excited him in ways that he wouldn't like to admit to himself later.

John could see the certain characteristics that omegas may have in Sherlock. Like softness of his skin, or the elongated neck, these things jumped out to John. But then again those characteristic have been in many alphas that John had ever met. And the damning fact that there has never been a scent of heat on Sherlock in the years that hes known him. Then again suppressants do wonders these days. Why would he hid it though? Well that one was actually pretty obvious. There was a lot of gender bias around jobs like the police department. And since Sherlock already had a bad reputation with people he would certainly be harassed til the point where they simply just kick him out.

A loud plop jerked John out of his wondering thoughts. Sherlock was scrambling with a pair of prongs inside the pot of urine, sploshing it over the entire counter. Ew, John thought.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to help me before the entire experiment is ruined?" Sherlock growled over his shoulder, curly hair flying everywhere.

John gabbed the nearest thing with a handle, a fork, and rushed to help retrieve Sherlock's severed hand. The both of them trying to find a severed hand at the same time in a large pot of piss was as gross as it sounds. Unhappily John noticed that Sherlock at least had a pair of rubber gloves on. Finally John felt the tip of his fork sink into something fleshy. "I think I got it!" John exclaimed, maneuvering the piss covered hand out and with a dirty noise the hand flopped onto the counter.

John didn't even get to have a sigh of relief before Sherlock has scoped it up with his prongs and was examining it ridiculously close to his face. John thought about a little shove and Sherlock pristine face in contact with a hand filled with urine.

"I think this will be alright," Sherlock nodded, "But I think that is enough of that for today."

"Ya think?" John went to scrub his hands clean in probably the most unclean sink in London with all of Sherlock's odd experiments that had made there way through there.

"Well then, I suggest you clean extra hard." Sherlock flung his soiled rubber gloves off into the occupied sink, almost hitting John's poor hand. "After that I suggest we go out. I'm hungry."

"Yeah?" John said scrubbing underneath his fingernails, "That's a rare thing. Where you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter so long as it isn't that awful western restaurant again," John can still remember pulling out a hair last time they went there.

"It doesn't matter to me, really." John supplied. He was just happy that Sherlock was the one that wanted to eat something. It must have been the first time in like, ever. "And, uh, I was wondering if we could talk about something. Or like I could just um, ask you something."

"Hmm? What is it?" Sherlock asked looking up at him, doing what John now knows as deducing him or answers.

"It's uh, well..." At that answer it made Sherlock narrow his eyes. "It was something that Lestrade mentioned to me."

"Oh, that a relief then," Sherlock sighed, and at John raised eyebrow alliterated, "That man is an idiot. I wouldn't get so worried about it."

"I'm not," John snapped. Making a mistake at Sherlock twitch in his lip. Oh well now John's looking at his lips.

"That bad then?" Sherlock said, "Now I must know."

"It wasn't anything important," John shuffled now at Sherlock piercing stare. "It was just...a little rumor at the station."

Sherlock seemed almost disinterested now. "About me?"

"How'd you know?" John asked eyes wide. Did Sherlock already know? Was he okay with that?

Sherlock leaned back against the counter, his imposing height making him almost as tall was the wall cabinet. "What else would make you so flustered over this? What'd they say?"

This was not how John thought this conversation was gonna go. "It was about you..."

"We've already gotten to that part, John." John again was surprised of Sherlock assery.

"It was about you're... ya know" John made an obscene gesture around his crouch.

"My genitals?" Not that that wouldn't be a lovely image, just not that one that John was looking for.

"No! Not your- your  _genitals_!" John shouted, desperate to get this out. "It was about your gender you dipshit!

That got the reaction he was looking for as Sherlock eyebrows went into his unruly curls. "What on earth for?" Sherlock crossed his arms, reminding John of a toddler that didn't get his way. "It's not like it's a particular interesting topic of conversation, after all if they had opened their eyes they would now the answer." Sherlock then flung himself forward in a rush after that, "Well, now that we got over what was bothering you so much, we have dinner to attend to."

But John was still stuck on the bit about how uninteresting Sherlock's gender apparently is.  _Oh, yeah so uninteresting,_ John thought bitterly,  _it only caused the biggest stir of controversy the force has ever seen._

Happy that John had finally gotten the last word (admittedly in his head) he followed his ridiculous (Alpha? Beta?)  _friend,_ out the door.


End file.
